Constantly feeding the abyss inside to quell the feelings lonely
a wave breaking over rocks eternally that is my psyche
Feebly pushing against the primal storms of nature that surround me
Laughs echo round the recess of my mind like thunder and lightning swelling my melancholy.
This isn't how it was supposed to be, the walls I put up to protect me, have stranded my emotions in a psychological penal colony.
With guilt the one commodity
A hell of my own creation one without hope of liberation
The tears of this clown my libation
Counting down to incineration
With the heart of a coward thinking is this the only way to beat my self imposed incarceration.
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Author:
brothervilheim (
Offline) - Published: May 17th, 2021 16:12
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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Comments2
There will be a door in that incarceration and when you find it the freedom and joy of your world will be boundless.
Andy
Even finding the door, one has to be brave enough to take the step through it, I'm not entirely sure I am.
Thank you for reading it means a lot.
'Feebly pushing against
the primal storms of nature that surround me
Laughs echo round the recess of my mind
like thunder and lightning swelling my melancholy.'
wonderfully, crisp and clear imagery
reinforcing the poems voice and message
than distracting us - from it..
a great read, thanks for sharing dear poet
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